


We made it!

by BlackthornPyre4UrEnemies



Series: Fake it! - The Series [2]
Category: Frozen (Disney Movies)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, F/F, Smut, plot if you squint
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:01:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26033098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackthornPyre4UrEnemies/pseuds/BlackthornPyre4UrEnemies
Summary: Works as a standalone: Elsa has a complicated relationship with touch.But also, the smutty sequel to Fake it till we make it: It started as a fake relationship. But now, it is very, very real.Not a comedy anymore however. Instead, a very intense character analysis, but with lemons (do any of you still remember this word?) Can't believe I am doing a character study like this, but it is what it is.(My long overdue submission for the final two prompts of Elsamaren Summer 2020)
Relationships: Elsa/Honeymaren (Disney)
Series: Fake it! - The Series [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1889680
Comments: 20
Kudos: 59





	We made it!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I gotta say. Smut is fun to write when one of them has ice powers. And a messed-up relationship with touch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Written in the middle of the night. Very sleepy and very confused. May not make sense. I may edit it further tomorrow. But man, I missed writing so much! I am sorry for the incredibly long hiatus.

Elsa returned to her ice cottage to find Honeymaren in her bed, buried underneath a mountain of fur to fight off the cold emanating from the ice walls and the ice bedframe.

Elsa almost wanted to conjure another bed so she didn’t have to disturb Honeymaren and could leave her warm and snug under the covers.

But.

She had been away for a week with the Earth Giants helping out with a landslide in the western side of the woods. Honeymaren would have come along, but they were nearing the end of the Northuldran spring harvesting and needed all hands on deck.

After tonight, they were heading to the hot springs together to continue on their side quest to probe the magical properties of water. _Finally_. It had been nearly half a year before they had time to pursue this again.

So.

Yeah.

She missed Honeymaren.

Deciding that if Honeymaren wanted a good night’s sleep, she should have stayed in her own tent, Elsa lifted a corner of the blankets and crawled into bed.

It was _burning_ underneath the covers. Elsa had never quite grasped how to gauge temperature properly, probably why she was a terrible cook, but she knew enough to know it was nice and toasty between the sheets. She was glad. She didn’t want her girlfriend freezing her butt off in her home. But she also wanted to feel _more_ of this warmth; warmth that came from a most magnetic source.

As Elsa snuggled into Honeymaren, Honeymaren stirred.

“..-sa?” she croaked.

“Mmmm…”

“You’re home.”

Honeymaren uttered it like a sigh, relief washing over her entire being, and Elsa watched as Honeymaren’s form relaxed more than it did when she was sound asleep earlier.

And Elsa _was_ home. Not in the ice cottage. But here. With Honeymaren.

By now, the entire Northuldran village knew they were sleeping together, but after the debacle that was the beginning of their relationship, the two had decided that they were going to live their lives however they wanted, traditions and so-called virtue be damned.

Honeymaren’s fingers danced along Elsa’s side, ghosting over the slippery icy material. Elsa shivered at her touch.

But touch was complicated for Elsa.

-

And too much ice was bad for Honeymaren.

So she slipped her fingers between Honeymaren’s wandering ones, dragging them off her body as seamlessly as she possibly could. She brought Honeymaren’s hands to her lips and kissed it.

“I was checking,” Honeymaren giggled, explaining why she was feeling Elsa up, “gotta make sure you’re back in one piece.”

Elsa responded by surging forwards and kissing Honeymaren, gently pushing her onto her back.

“I’m fine,” Elsa whispered, breathless from the kiss.

She rested her torso against Honeymaren’s, not bothering to keep her weight off her. Honeymaren groaned at the contact. After a week apart, it felt almost too much.

“Convinced?” Elsa murmured into Honeymaren’s neck.

“Elsa.”

That was all Honeymaren managed, for Elsa was now running _her_ hands up _Honeymaren’s_ sides.

Honeymaren had no issues with touch. So she let Elsa do whatever she wanted.

Because of the extreme effectiveness of the furs, Honeymaren was only in a thin undershirt and a pair of thin pants, which suited Elsa perfectly. She smiled against Honeymaren’s skin, pleased with her discovery. Her hands tugged at the hem of the shirt.

“May I?”

“Only if you get rid of yours too,” Honeymaren replied, even as her eyes were closed in pleasure, rendering her incapable of appreciating the sight of the blonde above her.

Elsa didn’t really want to remove her dress, not that she would ever let Honeymaren know, because anything Honeymaren wanted Elsa wanted to give to her. So Elsa focused her powers and felt the magic inside her recede in time with her fading dress.

And with that she peeled Honeymaren’s undershirt off a now very willing participant.

She leaned back down and captured Honeymaren’s lips again, trying to drink courage from between those velvet lips to press her bare front back down against Honeymaren.

But.

It was too much.

Too much smooth skin and firm muscles pressed up against Elsa’s pounding heart.

Soft breasts shifting with every one of their ragged and uncoordinated breaths.

Honeymaren’s bare skin was hot. _Searing. Hot._

And it was too much.

Touch was complicated for Elsa.

-

So she lifted her torso off Honeymaren’s, hearing the woman beneath her whimper at the loss.

That sound tugged at something painful somewhere in Elsa’s gut. Elsa never wanted to leave Honeymaren wanting.

And right now Honeymaren wanted her touch.

But Elsa had always loved by _not touching_.

Because touch was complicated for Elsa.

And loving Honeymaren was not. It was the simplest thing Elsa had ever done. So she did exactly that.

Hovering above Honeymaren by supporting herself on her hands and knees, Elsa traced a path with the tip of her tongue down Honeymaren’s neck to her chest.

“Elsa…” Honeymaren half-moaned, half-whined, the yearning evident in her voice now that contact with Elsa had been reduced to a pinpoint.

Elsa wanted to wipe that feeling out of Honeymaren’s heart. No girlfriend of Elsa’s should ever be yearning. Knowing precisely how to go about doing that, Elsa turned her head to one side and blew, controlling the temperature of her breath to let out just the perfect amount of frost she knew Honeymaren could not resist.

“Oh!”

Honeymaren’s hands knocked clumsily against Elsa’s forearms on their way to cover her gasp, even as she arched her chest up towards Elsa. Honeymaren was always very _responsive_ and Elsa smirked as she marvelled at the now stiff peak in front of her. She took it into her mouth.

“Elsa-ah!”

Her mouth was cold, intentionally so, and the complete control she had over her magic in that moment had joy surging powerfully through her veins. She moaned against Honeymaren, pulling the frost back easily, allowing love and warmth to resurface as she swirled her tongue to soothe Honeymaren.

“Gargh-ah!”

That was encouragement enough from Honeymaren. Elsa repeated the same actions, moving to the other breast before slowly making her way down Honeymaren’s abdomen, paying tribute to the firm set of abs there that she had always appreciated.

“Ffuh.. f-fuck,” was all Honeymaren could say, a stuttering mess from the unpredictable bursts of frost against her skin.

Elsa reached the waistline of Honeymaren’s pants and looked up, waiting for Honeymaren to recover and look back at her.

There was so much given to Elsa in the golden orbs that shone in the dark when they met Elsa’s eyes. Warmth and love and openness and above all, _trust_. Complete, unwavering, trust in Elsa.

 _Why_ it was there in Honeymaren’s eyes, Elsa could not figure out. She didn’t feel like she deserved that trust. After all the damage her touch had done. All the damage her touch could potentially do. But she would be damned if she wasn’t going to _earn_ it.

With a surge of resolve, Elsa dragged Honeymaren’s pants down, Honeymaren lifting up to help her along. Soon the article of clothing was discarded and Elsa nestled between Honeymaren’s legs.

Honeymaren snaked a hand down her thigh, reaching to stroke Elsa’s hair, before seeming to catch herself before her hand reached Elsa’s head. She changed course and slid her hand back down to grasp the sheets beside Elsa.

This had happened before. Once, early in their relationship. Honeymaren had instinctively laced her hands in Elsa’s hair in the throes of passion and Elsa had pushed herself off Honeymaren so quickly that Honeymaren accidentally yanked at the fistful of hair in her hand. Elsa had shot off a bolt of ice as she yelped in pain, shattering a window in the ice cottage in the process.

Honeymaren’s initial touch while gentle, and at that time, welcome by Elsa, was also sudden and unexpected, and the magic in Elsa had never responded to the sudden and the unexpected in a positive way. Fortunately, Elsa had pulled back before she could hurt Honeymaren, but that put an end to Honeymaren ever attempting to take control when they were intimate. And Elsa was grateful for that.

Because while touch was complicated for Elsa, there was one thing more complicated than touch.

Control. Or losing it.

-

“Come back to me, Elsa,” Honeymaren whispered, as she caught Elsa staring at her hand on the sheets.

“I… I’m sorry,” she added, guilt seeping through as she realised how much that careless move she had made towards Elsa had thrown Elsa off her game.

Elsa shook her head firmly, refusing to accept Honeymaren’s apology, and without another word, dipped down between Honeymaren’s thighs, bringing them both back on track.

“Spirits…” Honeymaren gasped, grinding down against Elsa’s mouth, even as her hands stayed firmly in place, gripping the sheets like vices.

Elsa got to work immediately, feeling her entire being hum with purpose at every sound that Honeymaren was making.

She was in control.

Her powers were doing her bidding.

Her _emotions_ were doing her bidding.

She didn’t have to conceal anything.

She could _feel._

Feel _everything_ – the romance she had never stopped longing for, the passion she had always denied herself, the freedom that came with complete command over her magic, and best of all, the love of her life quivering uncontrollably against her tongue.

It didn’t take long before Honeymaren’s entire being was quaking, cries of Elsa’s name falling continuously from her lips. Eventually, when Elsa could draw it out no longer, Honeymaren collapsed back onto the bed, panting hard.

Elsa rested her chin on Honeymaren’s navel, watching in awe as Honeymaren’s chest rose and fell, her abs clenching and unclenching with the effort of her breaths. Elsa did not know how she got so lucky, to be the only person to ever see Honeymaren like this. Quiet, stoic, incredibly guarded - None of those adjectives could apply to Honeymaren right now, even though they usually applied at all other times.

Finally, Honeymaren returned to reality and propped herself up on an elbow to smile down at Elsa. The softness in her expression made Elsa melt. Slowly, so that Elsa saw her coming, she brought a hand down to cradle Elsa’s face.

Elsa nuzzled into the warm palm before she could stop herself. Not that she wanted to stop herself.

“Hey,” Honeymaren whispered, gently coaxing Elsa to join her back at the head of the bed.

The next series of actions were like a practiced dance, as Honeymaren pulled Elsa into a warm embrace, every movement deliberate and unchanging from before. Elsa knew what was going to happen next. Elsa remained in control.

Honeymaren leaned in for a deep kiss, firm but relenting. Elsa could pull back or push on if she wanted to.

And as always, one hand will slip from Elsa’s back down to rest on Elsa’s hip. But it would go no further.

Honeymaren broke away from the kiss.

And as always, she asked, “May I?”

And as always, Elsa’s answer came.

“No.”

The first few times, all those months ago, Honeymaren would break, and her eyes would snap from a lust-filled dreaminess back into focus, concern etching over her features as she studied Elsa.

But after learning that all that the concern ever did was to hurt Elsa more, Honeymaren kept it at bay.

On this night, she merely continued to smile, the hand on Elsa’s hip returning to Elsa’s back, stroking soothing circles.

There was no expectation in any of Honeymaren’s actions. Elsa could continue, or Elsa could go to sleep, and Honeymaren would leave it all to her.

Elsa was in control.

She never used to know what to do with this freedom.

She used to wait for Honeymaren to drift off to sleep, her heart hammering and her breathing shallow, whether from arousal or anxiety she could never figure out, so that once Honeymaren was snoring she could slip out of bed and sort herself out in private.

But now she knew Honeymaren _meant it_ when she left it all up to Elsa to do whatever she wanted.

And it was no longer weird when Elsa would bring her own fingers between her legs as Honeymaren continued to hold her in her arms. It felt _right_ when Elsa worked at herself, feeling her own movements, anticipating, knowing, _in control of_ what came next while she thought of nothing else and no one else other than Honeymaren. Feeling the security of Honeymaren’s patience and strength envelope her, physically and mentally. All her senses filled with the essence of Honeymaren even as she was the source of her own pleasure.

 _And finally, falling apart_.

But never, _never_ losing control, as love and magic pulsed as one through every fibre of her being at the moment in time where she was happiest and most vulnerable.

“I love you,” Honeymaren’s voice would always come through to her as she slowly re-emerges from the haze of her pleasure, and with that confession Elsa would know she was loved, treasured, and _accepted_ , exactly the way she was, even if things never changed and that was how far it would ever go when it came to intimacy between her and Honeymaren.

And she was content.

More content than she ever thought she’d be.

Bless this happiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dynamics are a little experimental here. But the entire Fake it! series was experimental for me, and I am dying to try new things.
> 
> In different fics, whether intentionally or accidentally, every Elsa and every Honeymaren has a slightly different personality. Elsa and Maren are firm switches in the logs, but I realised that Elsa in Fake It has a slightly top-ish vibe. So yeah. That’s what I’m going with. For now. Things may umm… sorry there’s no better word here… switch. After all we have a lot of Elsa-issues to sort through. And I haven’t actually started on the smut prompt. So stay tuned. Hehe.
> 
> And maybe one day I will finally write a universe where Honeymaren tops first before Elsa. But not today. I actually find it easy to write a top!Honeymaren, but for some reason I feel the first time (or first few times) Elsa engages in something so intimate she will need to focus on someone else’s pleasure before hers to sort out her anxieties. 
> 
> I guess that means I have to write more elsamaren fics until I figure this out (other authors pull it off so effortlessly).
> 
> Cheers,  
> Blackthorn


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